


honey, I laugh when it sinks in

by sesquipedalianMarquis



Series: Skyrim Smutfics [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barbed Penis, Biting, Bondage, Communication, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Enthusiastic Consent, Exhibitionism, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Furry, In Medias Res, Khajiit (Elder Scrolls), Loud Sex, Manhandling, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Overstimulation, POV Third Person, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Shibari, Subspace, Sweet, Tenderness, Vaginal Sex, Vulnerability, cannot overstate how much both parties are into this, male sub, predator kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26672515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sesquipedalianMarquis/pseuds/sesquipedalianMarquis
Summary: Hey. Hey you. Khajiit has porn if you have... actually, you won't need coin, friend. It's just free porn about a huge dude getting topped by his shredded girlfriend and loving every second of it.S'Rhook, the big Khajiit, and Zari, his Auroran lover, need an alibi. Being creative and resourceful people, they decide that if everyone in the inn can frustratedly confirm that yes, they were *definitely* fucking, will do! And the easiest way to get S'Rhook to be loud as hell is to repeatedly come his brains out.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, S'Rhook/Zari
Series: Skyrim Smutfics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936300
Kudos: 32





	honey, I laugh when it sinks in

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Hozier's Dinner & Diatribes, because a song about getting pegged and *really* loud sex is exactly the vibe I'm going for here.
> 
> In this one, S'Rhook and Zari make good on their earlier musing to get Zari a strap. It's a good time all around.

The red ropes do look delectable on him. She’ll spring for thicker rope next time, the strands almost disappear under his thick fur, but where they do show the red’s a gorgeous contrast against S’Rhook’s greyscale coat. It’d contrast brilliant against those bright, clear, cold eyes of his, too, but well, it’s hard to fashion a rope gag when he’s got huge premolars that could scissor right through it. The guy could chew through boiled leather.

Still. Maybe she’ll take him up on the alternative he offered for another time, rope it around his muzzle instead, even if it’s a shame to keep it shut. But he’s got a point, he needs his mouth open (if not necessarily all too useful) for this.

They are, after all, creating an alibi.

And what an alibi they’ve got, she muses and shoves her hips forward, fucks her strap deeper into S’Rhook. He yowls, honest to the Princes yowls at the hard snap of her hips. The fact his face is mashed into the pillows doesn’t do a fucking thing to muffle it. Maybe they’ll get a noise complaint. Maybe they won’t, since most the customers are passed out drunk. But the staff aren’t and they’ll be able to attest that there’s no way in Oblivion either of them were off doing anything even slightly suspicious.

The way he keeps trying to grind back into her should probably be illegal, though.

“You like it that much, huh?” she asks, grabs the rope harness and hauls him up. With his arms behind his back, there’s fuck-all he can do about it (and he’s Prince-damned heavy, she needs both hands and puts her back into it). The noise he makes is wild, downright feral, because she’s shoved as deep inside him as she can get now with his considerable weight on her hips, enough to make her thighs tremble with the strain. She’s vaguely aware of the brush of his tail, curled way aside and lashing about the way that it does when he’s all overwhelmed.

“Yes, yes,” he babbles, uses his huge thighs to fuck himself on her, to rock the curve of her strap inside him. There’s a vague shredding sound, which might be his clawed feet rending the bedsheets, and Zari could not give less of a fuck about the sheets. There are no fucks left over. She is currently giving one fuck and working very hard to make it one of the most overwhelming fucks of S’Rhooks life.

“Come on, we have an alibi to keep up.” Her voice is pitched low enough that his ears turn to catch it. “Are you holding out on me, S’Rhook?”

“No, no, anything for you,” he gasps. She presses her hips against him in a slow, deep grind and he rocks with the motion, makes a beautiful throaty sound for her. “Ah, ah, right there, J’Zari!”

Her name rolls off his lips so easy. The name he gave her. Oblivion, she wants to climb into his fucking skin. She manhandles him back down, face in the pillows, shoulders against the mattress, his back arched and his legs spread. His tail almost flicks her in the face and she bats it aside.

“I’m gonna fuck you till you howl and then I’ll sit on your face and let you _taste_ how fucking wet it made me,” she tells him and watches the full-body shudder ripple through him. The talk really gets to him and she’d commend herself for it mentally, but there’s already seven commendations in the way he spreads his legs just that bit further.

“Yes,” he says, tucks his face to the side so his voice is less muffled by the pillow, “please, fuck me, wanna feel you—“ His voice breaks when Zari presses a thumb around the base of her strap, where he’s stretched wide around her already. It’s not a monstrosity that requires ages of prep, but it’s got girth to it, nice and hefty. It’s a heady rush of power, to be able to reduce him beyond words with something so simple. He honest-to-Oblivion whimpers and it takes him a solid shake of willpower to get talking again. “Please fuck me,” he repeats, “need you so bad, wanna eat you out after, get you all over my face, wanna feel you for _days_ ,” and who is she to refuse?

She braces her weight on his shoulders, fingers carded into his thick fur, palms flat on the thick muscle underneath. Meridia’s light, she can feel the flex ripple through him every time he arches into her, the strain of him against the solid rope harness. She hammers her hips against him at that angle that nearly got him to come untouched last time and he chokes on his moan. The low light catches on the shine of his claws when his hands flex in their restraints like he’s trying to hold on to something while she fucks his brains out.

She keeps up the punishing pace until he’s shaking under her, then gets a hand on his dick and works him over. He’s so keyed up it’s a matter of seconds before he comes like the blast of a smite all over her hand with these loud, wrecked moans. She fucks him through it with sure, steady movements until he’s completely boneless under her.

“Well done,” she praises and gets a loud, rumbling purr for it. The sound hitches when she pulls out of him, but needs must. “You’re very good for me. Your arms alright?”

“Nothing’s numb yet, but not far from it,” he admits once he’s regained his ability to speak and wiggles his fingers. “Ah. This one made a bit of a mess, yes? Let me fix it, before you get it all over the ropes.”

Zari laughs and holds out her hand for him, watches him lick it clean. His raspy tongue is a bizarre sensation and the spikes of it still give her a threatening thrill, but he’s never fucked up with it before. Always so careful with his killer teeth. She has no doubt he could bite her finger clean off as if it was just a carrot, but all he’s doing is sucking his own come off them and letting her run her fingertips over his fangs. Once he’s got her clean, she puts aside the strap and undoes his wrists and arms. The base body harness stays on, because it’s pretty. Incorporating another diamond shape for his tail was easy as anything and he seems to like the way it sits on him, the pressure of it over the base of his tail.

Gods, but she’s wet. It’s easy to ignore when she’s focusing on doing something (doing _him_ ), but in the lull where she just watches him sit up and stretch out his arms to get the blood flowing, it hits her full force. If she had the practised ease of someone who’s tended to their needs for decades, she thinks it’d be easy to come in something like a minute. But alas, she doesn’t have that practice, so she places a hand on S’Rhook’s chest. He looks up at her with his strange feline face open and satisfied and fucking radiant, like he’s about to ask her what’s up, then remembers.

“Ah, yes. You were going to sit on khajiit’s face, yes? Yes please?” He reaches for his gloves on the bedside table, and for Oblivion’s sake, if she comes out of this one with a kink for leather gloves it’s entirely his fault.

“Down with you,” she says, pushes at his chest. He goes, lets himself fall into the pillows with the same trust he puts in her in life or death combat. Like it’s easy. His hands are eager on her, greedy, and he steals a kiss before she crawls over him, knees on either side of his face.

“Hello there,” he purrs and shoves a pillow under his head. And then he grins at her and drags his tongue over his teeth in a long, dramatic swipe. “You look good enough to eat.”

“Ngh,” says Zari, transfixed by the shine of the candlelight on his fangs. “Mouth. On me. Now.”

His purr kicks up a notch. He grabs her thighs, she grabs his head and rides him like she stole him. The rasp of his tongue drives her crazy and while she sees the appeal of taking her time, right now she wants to come on his face and do it now. She urges him on and he obliges, makes happy noises against her, his tongue quick over her clit and his fingers hooked inside her just right.

The brutal pace gets her thighs shaking. For a second, she worries she’s too heavy on him, but he just moans louder the heavier she sits on him. It drives her wild. _He_ drives her wild, this gods-damn friendly mortal who gets in all the cracks in her armour. He drags his tongue around her clit in tight circles and she comes apart, pleasure firing through her sharp and shocky. The same way that she fucked him through it, he keeps nuzzling at her, makes her clench around the satisfying curl of his fingers until she’s raw with it.

Once she’s ridden out the high of it, she clambers off him. His muzzle is soaked with her come and his spit and probably some sweat, too, and he licks the taste of her off his lips and his fingers. She watches him do it and he watches her watch him do it. The look he throws her with half-lidded eyes is enough to light her nerves on fire again and then he closes them and sighs and drags his tongue along those nice snug gloves.

Gods damn.

She can’t help it. Zari crawls over him and kisses him hard. They’ve found a rhythm with practice, a sizzling back-and-forth that works around the fact he’s got an entire muzzle and fangs in there. She licks into his mouth, tastes her come on his tongue and kisses him breathless.

Finally, they break apart. A moment of rest settles in the room. Zari wipes herself down a bit and ties back her hair so it stops sticking to her shoulders with sweat. S’Rhook drinks some water and stretches again in that ridiculous khajiit way of his. No man or mer is supposed to bend that way, but apparently Azura decided her people wouldn’t need to be limited by such restrictive trifles as bones and joints.

They sit for a little, S’Rhook propped against the headboard and Zari comfortably snuggled against his shoulder. There’s not much snuggling for the sake of snuggles in the Coloured Rooms and she’s absolutely hooked on it. Her fingers card through the thick fur on his thigh and his content purr rumbles through both of them.

“So,” she says, drags her nails over his skin. He shudders pleasantly. “You wanna go again?”

“You didn’t take the harness off, so khajiit assumed we were just on break until this one’s stamina recovers.” He butts his cheek against the top of her head. “Another round is most agreeable. After all, we have an alibi to keep up. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I could tie you so you have to sit pretty and then finger you till you lose it,” she pitches.

“Mngh,” says S’Rhook, then rubs his cheek over her head again in a gesture she’s picked up as a kind of positive catch-all—approval, now. “Yes. That sounds excellent. That, please.”

So it’s decided. He lets her guide him into position in the middle of the bed and she picks up the rope she’d tied his arms with. She ropes him in with some complex work that ends with his legs tucked under him, knees spread far; there’s a clever rigging across the small of his back that actually doesn’t allow him to close them any further. While she fastens his wrists to his ankles, he muses amicably about getting a room with a nice big mirror next time. He gets as far as a sordid description of how he wants to wreck her in front of it (and oh, it makes her _burn_ with how she wants it, they have to stop staying at these cheapshit inns and spring for something nicer for once) before she finishes up.

Stopping her ropework doesn’t actually mean she stops him from laying out that delectable fantasy. They pause and she checks if the ropes are sitting right, if anything’s bad, but he enthusiastically confirms that it’s good work, so she lets him continue and gets a hand on his dick and the slick in reach.

“Keep talking,” she murmurs, drags the nails of her free hand down his chest. He makes a pleased sound deep in his chest.

“S’Rhook wants you to see the face you make when khajiit eats you out ‘till your thighs shake. Every time, this one wants to say look at you, you’re gorgeous, but– hngh—“ he cuts off and sighs in pleasure when she drags the heel of her hand along his dick, coaxing it out of its sheath.

“But usually your mouth is a little full for that?” she finishes the sentence for him, since he doesn’t look like he’ll be doing it himself. His barbs drag against her palm and it makes her skin tingle a little.

“Yeah, that. Fuck, J’Zari, you treat me so good.” He leans forward, drags his cheek against hers. His fur is thick and so much softer than it looks. Zari thinks it’s just for the comfort, for the intimacy, but then she feels his fangs ghost over her neck and shudders. The rasp of his tongue on the sensitive spot just under her ear drags a whispery little sound out of her.

They egg each other on like this, S’Rhook going for the bits of her neck and shoulder he knows are her weak spots, the bastard, and Zari drags her hand over his cock in that way that makes him buck into her grip. Well, usually. He can’t, now, not as tied-up as he is, but he still flexes his hips into it like it does anything. Delightful.

“J’Zari,” he murmurs against her shoulder. She can feel his whiskers move when he talks. “You promised me fingers too, no?”

So she did. It’s easy to get caught up in things; the mortal plane is strange like that. She kisses the side of his head and nudges him to sit up proper so she can slick up her other hand, too. For a moment, she considers moving so she’s behind him, but then she wouldn’t be able so see his face when he falls apart. And that’d be a crying shame.

He’s got a point about the mirror thing.

So she doesn’t move, slides a hand between his legs, listens for any sound of discomfort. There’s none. He’s easy as anything, still slick from how good she fucked him earlier. Zari wonders how sensitive he feels, if it feels as raw as it does when she goes several rounds.

S’Rhook noises encouragingly, doesn’t leave her hanging without feedback. When she slides her fingers just right, he whines all sweet, so she keeps it up with solid precision, firm enough to rock him a little.

It’s a heady feeling, having him like this. He’s so responsive and so... so completely at her mercy. Like he trusts her unconditionally, at least with this. She kisses him while she works him over, patient and steady, stoking his pleasure. When she lets go of his dick to palm over his balls, he moans for her and it makes her stupid with want.

“Tell me,” she orders, drags her hand over his dick again, drags her thumb over his tip. She’d be more careful with her sword-calluses, but he’s enthusiastically insisted he likes it, and he does, given the way he shivers. “Talk to me.”

“So good,” he gasps, his eyes closed and his neck tense. “So good. Keep going, please don’t stop. Khajiit wants to come like this. Your hands are so strong—deeper, deeper—mngh, just like that—“

She kisses him again, drives her fingers into him harder. It makes him drip with pre and she jerks him off faster. He’s getting there, getting noisier. She wants to eat him alive.

He gasps the name he gave her. He’s been giving from the very start—shelter, empathy, advice, companionship, a place around his fire and in his family. Everything a mortal has to give. And Zari... well, she can give him this. She milks him for all he’s worth, curls her fingers inside him and her fist around his cock until he shakes under her hands and keeps going. He trembles in the ropes, gasps these wet and wanting sounds, too much and exactly enough all at once. His legs seize up and he struggles to close them, to tear away from the sensation, but her ropes and knots hold him tight and safe and exactly where she wants him. It’s exquisite, watching him fall apart in her grip when he comes; it satisfies something hungry inside her that drinks up his desperate gasps.

Finally, he begs out, stumbles over his watch-word and she releases him from his torment, wraps her arms around his chest instead. He rests his head on her shoulder and purrs while he comes down from it, a deep and rumbling sound that vibrates into her bones.

“Talk to me,” she murmurs, kisses the side of his face. Her face almost disappears in the thick fur.

“Hmmngn,” he says, which isn’t words, and Zari would be happy to just interpret that, but he wanted it this way.

“Words,” she insists. “S’Rhook. How are you doing?” The sound of his name brings him back into his head a bit. He’s not too happy about that, from his body language.

“Khajiit thinks his dick might fall off if he comes again,” he rasps into her shoulder, his voice a throaty mess. “You’re brilliant. Shining. Everything.”

“There you go. Good.” The praise, again, does the trick—his purr kicks up again. “Does that mean you want to stop?”

There’s a silence in which he seems to contemplate the question. She can feel his breathing evening out. The oil that slicks up her hand is going to clump his fur together all nasty, but for all that he may bitch about it tomorrow when he’s scrubbing up, tonight he needs to be held while she takes him apart. She’s actually taking most of his weight like this—given how heavy he’s leaning on her, he’d likely slump without the support.

“Lie down while you think,” she prompts, lowers him carefully. It looks a bit stupid, with his legs folded and spread, but she enjoys the view, even if his fur is a sweat-matted mess. His eyes slide closed when she starts undoing the ropes. The complex rig takes a while to undo, but she enjoys the raw tenderness of putting her hands all over him. If there were any tension left in S’Rhook’s body, she’s sure it would melt right out.

“Talk to me. How are your legs?”

“Tense. Khajiit will stretch slowly. Mngh.” He rolls his shoulders and stretches out his arms first, then slowly straightens his legs. When he points and flexes his feet, his claws unsheathe. Zari lies down next to him, slings an arm around his massive chest.

“How’s thinking going?”

“Difficult, given that you very thoroughly fucked this one’s brains out.” He sounds approving in the extreme and settles an arm around her in return. “One more. S’Rhook can do one more without dying.” He nuzzles against the top of her head. “For you, J’Zari. This one wants you to come, too. Whichever way pleases you.”

She considers her options. The strap-on is still somewhere in the sheets, so that’s an option. Then again, all this teasing and the pretty sounds he’s been making for her have her rather hot and bothered.

Zari slings her leg over his hip, boxes him in under her. His hands automatically come up to rest on her sides, but he stops himself just before he touches her—waiting for permission, she realises. She’s in charge. He’s very, very well-behaved.

“I want you inside me,” she tells him and watches his pupils go stupid wide and round. “You like the thought of that? Any way I want, you said. I’ll have you fuck me until I’m satisfied.”

“Ja-Vaberzarita, you will be the death of me,” he sighs, hanging off her lips like each word is a benediction.

She shifts her weight, runs a hand down his abdomen, her fingers tacky in his thick fur. When she plays her fingers over his sheath, he shudders hard and his joints lock. Zari lets go and kisses him until he goes pliant under her again.

“Too much?”

“No. Yes, physically this is at the limit of what this one can take. But S’Rhook wants it. It will hurt and khajiit wants it badly.” He looks a bit sheepish. “Bit of a struggle to stay still, though.”

Zari laughs. “I can fix that. You want more rope?”

He nods in quick little bobs of his head and she grins down at him, immortal and merciless. It doesn’t take long to get him rigged nice and secure; she lashes his ankles to the bedposts (thanks Meridia the frame is sturdy), drags his arms over his head, hands to forearms and forearms to headboard. The arms bit isn’t really necessary, but it’s nice, having this huge terrifying predator under her with his throat and belly completely exposed. Zari can’t tell whether that’s a thought that crosses his mind at all—when she starts the ropework, he just relaxes, his eyes slide half-closed and his breathing evens out. Like it’s easy, giving her control like that, giving her power like that. Like he doesn’t have to struggle to give it up at all. Zari allows herself a small measure of jealousy, just for a second, then finishes tucking the excess rope away. S’Rhook’s tail flicks along the sheets, the only indicator that he’s going haywire with stimulation.

“Gorgeous,” she tells him and slings a leg over his hips. There’s so much of him, all just on display for her. She grabs two generous handfuls of his chest and grins down at him.

“As are you, J’Zari,” he purrs back and gives her the slow blink that he explained means feeling safe, trusting. She returns the gesture and his purr kicks up a notch. So easy, to make him happy with simple mortal gestures and rituals.

Zari takes her time feeling him up, tugging at the ropes, watching him squirm on the mattress. His dick was soft and tucked away when they started, but she has an easy fix for that, grinds against him slow and sinuous while she maps his body with her hands. It takes him a while to get hard and he whimpers a little when he does, little breathless noises like there’s not enough air in his lungs. But he doesn’t complain or ask her to stop or even look particularly displeased, just plain overwhelmed.

When she takes him in hand and guides him inside her, he gives a delightful shudder. When she rocks her hips, he hisses, a low noise between his teeth, and she holds still, runs a hand through the fur on his neck. It’s hard to focus on talking when he’s hot and hard inside her, filling her up just so, but she makes the effort.

“Are you good? Not too much?”

“It’s so much,” he grits out, twists his hips like he might squirm away if he could. “This one was right, it does hurt, kinda. But not bad. Stendarr’s mercy, J’Zari, you’re so fucking wet, keep going, keep going,” so she does and he whimpers under her.

Tying his arms above his head was a great idea, Zari thinks as she grinds down on him, pins his hips with her weight and rocks herself back and forth so his barbs drag inside her just right. He struggles and squirms, but the ropes are strong. His arms and chest strain magnificently and she puts her hands all over him while she fucks him without mercy. He requested for her to keep going, so she does, uses him for her pleasure and drinks in the throaty, wounded noises he makes for her.

“Hey, open your eyes,” she coaxes, one hand planted solid on his sternum. S’Rhook’s crystal blue eyes open hesitantly, like it’s hard for him to not squeeze them shut, rake down her body and stop where she’s rubbing her fingers across her clit. “Watch me get off. I’m gonna use you for my pleasure and then I’m gonna make you come your brains out and you’re gonna lie there and _take it_.”

The tremor that runs through him is one of the most gratifying sights the mortal plane has offered her yet. He doesn’t manage to keep his eyes on her, but he can be forgiven for that one; the wet and wanting sound he makes is more than worth it. He actually bucks his hips up into her instead of twitching away—and immediately grits his teeth against the oversensitivity again. Gods, he’s a fucking gift. Zari jerks her clit hard and fast, grinds his dick into her and relishes the texture, and wishes for his teeth in her shoulder or his claws in her back. It’s easy to come with him losing it under her. S’Rhook mewls when she tightens up around him. By the time she’s ridden out the last of it and dismounts, he’s laying there limp and boneless, breathing ragged like he just ran a mile.

Zari stretches luxuriously, feels the contentment settle in her bones. She’ll also feel some sore muscles tomorrow, but that’s tomorrow’s problem. Right now, she has a messy, trembling, rock hard khajiit in bed.

He looks up at her with hazy eyes. His hand jerks in the bindings like he’s reaching for her.

“Please,” he says. “J’Zari.” He sounds almost lost.

“Hey, hey,” she soothes, kisses his brow, pets the side of his head. “Still here. Just stretching out. You did really well.” His eyes lid a bit, the feeling of safety returning. “Do you still want to come? Or should I untie you?”

He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. When he opens them again, he’s got the same calm as when she roped him in. Even if he is still shuddering with overstimulation and need, it worked fine to calm him down. She’s glad for the primer he gave her before they started doing this.

“Yes,” he says. “Please. Please, you said...”

“I did.” She presses another kiss to his forehead. “You just lie here and take it. That’s all you have to do for me. Lie there, make some pretty noises and come for me.”

“Can do.” His voice sounds wrecked. He looks wrecked, his fur matted and his muzzle damp. She feels a surge of pride at having taken him apart so well.

So she moves, lies at an angle so she can get a hand between his legs and her mouth on his cock. She can feel the relax of a slow breath wash through him.

It doesn’t last long. She leans in, takes his cock in her mouth and feels his muscles lock. He doesn’t even manage noise, chokes on his moan. Zari can taste her come on him, along with the salty tang of his pre.

Zari takes him deeper. The sensation of the barbs across her lips is strange and makes her mouth tingle, but it’s pleasant. And even if it wasn’t, she’d do it anyways because apparently khajiit don’t do much in the way of blowjobs, because of the fangs. Which means that they’re his biggest weakness. He thrashes in the ropes when she takes him more, wiggles even with his restraints, but Zari is strong, bars an arm across his hips. With her free hand, she teases between his legs. He’s still slick and open and it’s easy to slide one finger into him and crook it against his prostate.

He makes a noise like he’s been punched in the gut. Zari moves her finger in soft, easy motions, just to help him over the edge, rubs her tongue against the underside of his shaft and hums contently. S’Rhook howls with the sensation, gasps for breath and she feels his muscles lock again. He screams through gritted teeth when he comes, and well, if their alibi wasn’t solid before, it sure is now. Zari doesn’t even have to swallow—there’s nothing left. He’s spent. She eases off him. He slumps like someone who’s been hit over the head, melts into the mattress. Zari drags herself up, wipes off her hands and starts unpicking the knots at his wrists.

It takes a while for him to stop panting and twitching. That’s alright. She lets him come down from it in a comfortable silence, just works on getting the ropes off him. He seems to work his way out of his headspace while the ropes fall away, but he’s completely out of energy; Zari has to move him about to undo the ropes. She’s just pulled the last of the body harness off him when he finally speaks.

“S’Rhook is fairly sure he died and this is the afterlife.” His voice is beyond wrecked.

“You’re very alive. Stretch out your arms and legs.” She nudges his limbs encouragingly and he does, works the feeling back into his stiff joints. Zari drinks some water and passes him the jug when he’s done.

He drinks deeply and sets it aside, then looks at her, and yes, he’s back in his body, but he still looks raw and kind of vulnerable and it makes her want to tuck him under her wings and stab anyone who gets close.

“We should clean up,” she ventures. She feels sticky as hell and she’s not even the one with fur. When she licks her lips, it’s salty with sweat.

“This one needs comfort more than being clean,” he admits. His face is too damn open.

“Touch, huh?”

“It’s grounding.” He holds out a hand in a plea and she melts. She may be envious of how easy it is for him to submit, to give away control. But he makes things easy for her too. Like now. They end up with their legs tangled, his tail curled around her ankle, his head on her shoulder. The deep purr in his chest buzzes through her bones and she holds him, grounds him in his body, and it’s easy as anything, easy as flying.

**Author's Note:**

> Ja-Vaberzarita is Zari's full name! She didn't have one when she crashed into Nirn and S'Rhook gave her a Ta'agra name.
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you liked it, leave me some kudos?


End file.
